


A Casual Stroll

by ThatMasterOnline



Category: Far Cry 4
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 14:04:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13148211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatMasterOnline/pseuds/ThatMasterOnline
Summary: Based on the prompt: “Sometimes I steal flowers from your garden on my way to the cemetery, but today you’ve caught me and have demanded to come with me to make sure the “girl is pretty enough to warrant flower theft” and I’m trying to figure out how to break it to you that we’re on our way to a graveyard.”AU where Sabal left Kyrat after Amita took over and is now living in America. Little does he know that he's living in the same city as he son of his idol, and now that son has recently lost his mother. Fate, and some snipped flowers, bring them together. Also AU where Ajay is a crybaby. Cut him some slack, he just lost his mother.





	A Casual Stroll

Ajay sighed. His mother had been buried, and today was the first time he was visiting her at the cemetery. He sank down in front of the little stone where her ashes were buried, sighing again.

“...Hey, mom. I’m here. I...fuck, I forgot to bring flowers. I promise I’ll bring some next time.” Ajay’s emotionless facade crumbled, and he burst into tears.

“I’m sorry…” He gasped through his sobs, “I promised myself I wouldn’t do this...I just...I don’t know how to live without you, and I was such a screw up...I’m trying to turn my life around now, and it hurts that I was too late for you to see…” He sniffled to himself for a little while, finally speaking when he had recovered.

“And...I’m gay, mom. I’m sorry I never told you while you were alive, but...well, I could never be sure, you know? When I was younger you thought it was disgusting, and that scared me...more than I can tell you. I could see you were trying to change, but...those things you said when I was younger kept me too afraid to admit it out loud to you. Is that...is that how you felt about me? You could see me trying to change, but you wondered if the old me wasn't still there, waiting to drag me back?” He burst into tears again, slumping.

“God, I thought I was over it...not over it, over it, nobody gets over this kind of thing in a couple months, but...over it enough that I could talk about my feelings without crying, you know?” He laughed humourlessly. “Turns out I'm still a wreck. I dunno how long I’m gonna be a wreck for. What do you think? Maybe as long as I was with that near-miss with prison?” He let out another short laugh. “The joke is I’m still not over that. Doesn’t bode well for me getting over your death, does it?” He chuckled again, trying to pull himself together.

“Well...ahem, that’s enough crying for today. What will my neighbours think if I show up at home looking like a mess? Probably that I broke up again. Sorry mom, all those girls I broke up with before I could bring them home were all guys. It’s true that the relationships didn’t last long, though. I just have a thing for the wrong guy, you know? The guys that only want sex. Problem is I like sex so much it takes me forever to figure it out, and then they're all confused...Anyways. I, uh...I’m off, for today. I’ll see you again soon, and I’ll have flowers.”

***

A month later, Ajay was heading back to see his mother, and- fuck, he forgot flowers again. Dammit. Dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit! He’d have to turn back and go to the flower shop...sighing, he turned to head back, but then spotted a house nearby. It was notable because it had a garden full of tulips. Orange tulips. His mother’s favourite. The flower shop was so far away, there was no guarantee they’d have tulips, let alone the orange tulips his mother loved. Besides, it was getting late, and it would be dark by the time Ajay got back from the flower shop. He sighed. Just this once. He wasn’t a thief, not anymore.

***

“So I’ve already fucked up turning my life around. I stole tulips from somebody’s garden. I’m sorry mom, I know you’re disappointed in me, but...well, I forgot the flowers again, and they were orange tulips, your favourite. I just...I promised I'd bring flowers, and I...I didn’t want to disappoint you again. That’s all I’ve been doing my whole life, and just this once, I wanted to make it right. I’ve already promised myself it won’t happen again. Tomorrow I’ll stop by the flower shop and have some orange tulips ordered and set aside for you, that way I’ll have bought the flowers next time around. Still, I’m sorry about the flowers. I promise, I’ll...I’ll find a way to make up for it, get some good karma. You always believed in karma. I promise, I’ll get some good karma to make up for the flowers. Sorry I don’t have time to talk today, but it’s getting late. I know it’s cliché, but step one to my ‘turning my life around’ program was never stay out after dark. Makes me feel like a kid again, you know, but I know lots of shady things happen after dark, and the best way to not get involved is to not be out after dark. Besides, you can’t exactly get involved in a gang or anything if you say you can’t be out after dark. You’d be laughed out in a heartbeat. You simply can’t be hip if you have a curfew.” Ajay chuckled, placing his hand on his mother’s tombstone.

“I’ll be back again, mom. Love you.”

***

“What do you think you’re doing?” Ajay froze, his whole body going cold in a way he hadn’t felt since the last time his mother had caught him sneaking back into the house at four am.

“What exactly gives you the idea that you can use MY tulips to make a bouquet?” The tulips at the flower shop had been delayed three weeks because of worsening weather, and now here he was, caught with his hand in the cookie jar. The man who had caught him looked a level of angry he hadn’t seen on his mother, even in their very worst shouting matches.

“I-I-I-I’m so s-sorry,” Ajay stuttered, “I-I just...it’s f-f-for…”

“For? For a girl? You’re using tulips from my garden to make a bouquet for a GIRL?!”

“I-I’m into guys, actually…” Ajay stammered, and then visibly flinched. There he went, saying the wrong thing at the wrong time, again. Why did that even matter now?! Yes, he’d been loudly proclaiming his gayness since his mother had passed and he didn't have to fear rejection from his peers, but this random stranger? Besides, the flowers were for his mother, why did his sexuality matter at a time like this?

“A bouquet for a guy, my apologies.” The tone was too scathing to be apologetic. “Well, come on, let’s go, then.”

“G-go?”

“Yes, on a date.”

“...Date?”

“What, don’t I get to see the man who’s so irresistibly attractive that he can seduce good men into committing flower theft? I don't think so. I’m going to meet this man and decide for myself whether he’s good looking enough to be worthy of tulips from my garden.”

“Uh...I...it’s not…”

“GO. I won’t ask you again.” Shaking head to toe, Ajay got up, flowers in hand, and started walking. Great, not only was he busted for theft, he had to tell this man that the flowers were actually for his dead mother, and not some imaginary sex god among men who convinced people to steal from gardens. Fuck.

“Um...so…” He faltered. “How do you know if men are attractive or not? Aren’t you straight?”

“No, I’m into men. I would tell you that you’re attractive, but you stole from my garden.”

“Right. So…” He tried again, and faltered again. “...What’s your name?”

“Why do you care? You never bothered to ask my name before.”

“Uh...I just...so I can introduce you to…” To my mother. Just say it! He tried, but the words wouldn’t come out.

“Oh, now we’re friends and you want to introduce me, I see. I suppose you don’t want your boyfriend to know you’ve been stealing the elegant bouquets he’s been getting, is that it?”

“N-no, it’s-”

“Sabal. My name is Sabal. And you are?”

“Ajay Ghale.” 

“Ay-jay. How very American.”

“Actually, it...I say it like that because...well, because I got tired of correcting the other kids at school. Back in Kyrat where I come from, it would be pronounced Ah-jay Gha-lay.” Sabal blinked, then stared at him like he was...some sort of angel.

“Ajay...Ghale? Son of...son of Mohan Ghale?” Ajay shrugged, looking away.

“I dunno. Mom never talked about my father.” That was why they kept getting into shouting matches. Looking back, knowing he had been yelling about his nonexistent dad while his mom was dying of cancer...Ajay cleared his throat and shook his head to try and will away the tears.

“You must be. You must be. Ghale is not exactly a common family name...Ajay, it is an honour to meet you. I’m...sorry for yelling at you earlier. You’re not off the hook yet, but...I overreacted.”

“...Whatever.” He wanted to ask how Sabal knew this Mohan Ghale guy, and why being his son would warrant an apology for yelling at the man who had been stealing flowers from him, but Ajay was still trying to fight back the tears brought on by the mere mention of his father, he didn’t want to bring it up again. He could see the cemetery in the distance; he gulped. 

“Um...Sabal, I have to tell you…”

“You think you can get out of this because you’re the son of Mohan? Not likely, I’m not that forgiving.”

“I...no, it’s…”

“It’s…?”

“Um...I...I’m not…”

“...You have a talent for words, Ajay.”

“I-I’m sorry, I just...we-we’re not...um...there’s no guy…”

“So why did you pick a bouquet of flowers from my garden?”

“Well...um…” Hands anxiously gripping the tulips, Ajay took the path leading to the cemetery entrance, wincing as Sabal figured it out and gasped.

“Oh. I...I’m so sorry...I…”

“It-it’s fine…” Ajay sat down in front of his mother’s tombstone, placing the tulips down and taking the old ones.

“I brought a guy, mom. His name is Sabal. He’s the one I’ve been stealing the flowers from. ...Yeah, I stole flowers again. The shipment at the flower shop was delayed. Um...so…sorry, again. Anyway, Sabal’s great. He’s super nice to me, I think because he thinks my father was this guy named Mohan Ghale? I dunno if it’s true or not, you always refused to talk about Kyrat and my dad. So...I think...if it’s okay with you...I'll ask Sabal about Mohan. Even if he’s not my dad, it would be cool to...know, you know? Sabal knows this guy with the same last name as me, so I'd like to think maybe I’ll learn about dad after all. I’m sure I’ll never really know why you wouldn’t talk about dad or Kyrat, but...well, I guess I’ll just have to live with that. I’m sure you would have kept it secret for a good reason. Anyways, I’m off. I can feel Sabal standing awkwardly behind me, so I wanna head out before he runs off. He’s...well, I think it might be nice to get to know him. Who knows, maybe I’ll be able to bring a nice guy here for you to meet after all. Cemetery picnic, how does that sound?” He laughed, patting the tombstone and getting up.

“Do you want your old flowers back?”

“No...Ajay, I...I’m so sorry…”

“Don’t worry. I tried to tell you, but you weren’t letting me get a word in at first, and then as we got closer it got more awkward and, well, as you said, ‘I have a talent for words’, right?”

“If I had known…”

“You wouldn’t have yelled so much for stealing the tulips? I...I’m sorry, I just...I forgot flowers the first time I went to see her, so I promised I’d bring some the next time, and I forgot again, and...orange tulips were her favourite, and...and it would have been dark by the time I got to the flower shop, and they might not have had tulips, let alone orange tulips...I promised it would only be the one time, the next day I ordered the tulips in for next month when I would go see her again, but...they were delayed because of the weather, and...it was only going to be just one more time, and then that was it, but...you…”

“Caught you.”

“I’m sorry. They were her favourites...fuck.” Tears were brimming in Ajay’s eyes again, and he wiped his eyes as Sabal wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close.

“I’m sorry…”

“...How long ago did she pass?”

“Couple months.”

“I’ve lost many friends myself, you have nothing to be sorry for. A couple months is nowhere near enough time for the tears to stop. Remember, you have to mourn every memory, every missed opportunity, every regret...it takes years, sometimes.”

“...Does it get easier?”

“Much. Just give it time, and never apologize for the time it takes you to mourn. The more you loved someone, the longer it takes for the memories to dull and not hurt so much.” Ajay nodded, looking up at the sky, and Sabal pulled back.

“...I need to start coming earlier in the day. I promised after mom passed I would never stay out after dark, and...it’s gonna be dark by the time I get home.”

“I have a spare room, you can stay at my place, if you’d like. We can talk more about Mohan.”

“...Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.”

“I have a couple bottles of beer that we can crack as well. Nothing helps chase down difficult conversations like Uncle Raksi, I would know.”

“Uncle who?”

“Uncle Raksi. It’s the most widely drunk, if not the best tasting, Kyrati beer.” Ajay laughed.

“A little taste of home, literally. ...Sure, let’s go back to your place and crack the Uncle Raksi.” Sabal smiled, wrapping an arm around Ajay again and looking forward to seeing how this friendship with the son of Mohan would develop. Perhaps with time he really would end up accompanying Ajay on a cemetery picnic. Sabal decided that wouldn’t be half bad.


End file.
